Page 103 of Under the Iron Sky

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring indignantly. His hands curled into fists, and just when she thought he was about to turn and leave, just as she thought she’d won, his eyes flicked down.

And remained.

He’d clearly intended for this to just be a quick glance, a flash of a look to show that he wasn’t afraid of her and the balance of power between them very much remained with him despite what she was trying to do—only to fail spectacularly.

And Soraya couldn’t help the satisfied tingle that ran up her spine at the realization that in this moment, he was just as trapped as she was.

He sucked in a harsh breath, groaning in the back of his throat as his eyes slid over the curve and dip of her breasts, her waist, her hips. Taking his time. Drinking her in inch by tortuous inch.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had seen her naked, but she couldn’t ever remember any of them looking at her like this. As something to be devoured.

Soraya’s mouth ran a little dry at that look, the hunger in it. And suddenly, the Astro Temple, the blood, everything that’d transpired over the last hour … it all fell away beneath that gaze.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her chest flushed, and heat pooled low in her stomach when that gaze finally landed between her hips.

And then he started walking toward her.

His gaze never faltered. Not even as it slid over every scar marking her stomach and chest, the awful one at the top of her left thigh. Like he saw every brush with death, saw all of her, and was not afraid—of her or how she’d gotten them.

She stepped back, straight into the shower, scarcely feeling the water’s hot bite as he followed her right into the spray, water soaking his silver hair, and stared down at her, jaw tight, eyes tighter. This close, almost chest to chest, she could feel a current zipping across her skin.

He could do anything right now.

She had no weapons. Was completely bare like this.

He could just as easily take her on this cold floor as he could snap her neck. And from the look in his eyes, she couldn’t tell which he’d prefer.

He bent down so they were eye level and slowly reached out a hand.

Soraya’s heart leaped into her throat.

Shit. He wasn’t going to—

She suppressed a shiver when the cold bite of his rings gently grazed the side of her rib cage—

And pulled the metal cord to cut off the water.

Ikarus leaned in and braced his hands on the wall behind her, long fingers splaying either side of her head. Water ran down the sides of his face, that gold streak in his eye practically pulsing with some emotion she couldn’t place, before he vanished with a crack.

And Soraya realized as she stood there, alone within the thick gray steam steadily curling through the small bathroom, that she couldn’t recall when the beast that so often went rampant in her head had fallen silent.

33

Ikarus was in dire need of a cold shower. The problem? There was a human in his room.

A very infuriating, very naked human.

Groaning, he ran his hands over his face, left them covering his eyes. Not because the position was particularly comfortable but because it was the only thing he could think to do to stop himself from readjusting his trousers for what must’ve been the twelfth time since leaving their room and taking shelter in Aeris and Emelda’s apartment next door.

On the other side of the open balcony, Morana was still screaming at the base of the Astro Temple some forty feet away, no doubt searching the rubble for whatever remained of Mortis. Ikarus threw up a shield to drown her out.

He had not fled—he was quite adamant on that. More of a tactical retreat because he didn’t trust himself not to throttle the woman if he was in her presence a moment longer.

He just needed a minute to catch his breath, he decided, and think of a way to silence that ridiculous creature on the other side of the vine-covered wall that did not end with either both of them dead, or him strangling her and bringing this assignment to a spectacular premature end.

Which would have been much easier to do had she not insisted on making his life as difficult as she possibly could.

Trying to escape? He expected no less. Listing all the ways she was going to kill him when she severed this connection between them? Fine. He hoped she had a grand old time imagining each one of them. But stripping naked? Offering herself to him like that? It was a cheap shot.